MAYHEM IN THE BULLPEN
by Ballyuk
Summary: Jimmy's gone and done a bad thing, and now there'll be hell to pay. Set between 8x04 (Instinct) and 8x05 (Committed). A little bit violent hence the rating.


Author's Note: I do not own the characters.

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 **MAYHEM IN THE BULLPEN.**

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Clark was sat at his desk putting the finishing touches to his latest assignment - another filler piece about a gardening convention in Metropolis a week on Sunday. There was no investigation required for this one, and no need to put it through the Lois Lane Filter, which meant there was no need to stare at a page covered in red circles and multiple underlined words while scrambling to figure out how best to rewrite it before the deadline. No, this one could go straight to Randall's in-tray, ready for the next day's edition. While the stories were generally pretty boring, Clark looked at the bigger picture. He was getting a fair few by-lines of his own, which wasn't bad going for somebody of his inexperience. Indeed, there were interns in the bullpen who had been working here much longer than he had, still waiting for their big break. It's fair to say he was enjoying his job and even more surprisingly, he was enjoying working alongside Lois. If asked, she would almost certainly claim the opposite but he knew that she liked working with him too. Things were good. All was calm in Clark's world.

Lois had told him she was popping over to Isis after meeting with a source because Chloe wanted to speak with her about the final preparations for the Chimmy Engagement Extravaganza (© Henry James 'Jimmy' Olsen, 2008). Chloe had asked Clark to come along too but he was more than happy to sit out a couple of hours of discussions about dresses, table settings and general girl talk. Hearing the desperate footsteps coming from outside the bullpen, his attention turned to the door.

In the next second, Jimmy was scrambling through it, frantic and panicked. When he spotted Clark looking towards him from behind his desk, he made a beeline for his fiancée's best friend. The hard left turn was carried out with all the grace of a spaniel puppy changing direction on a smooth tiled floor, arms cartwheeling and legs spinning furiously to gain some traction. Jimmy's jacket was flapping madly and his camera was swinging left and right from his neck.

Clark instinctively got up, worried for a moment that Jimmy might have come bearing bad news. "Jimmy?"

Jimmy skidded to a stop beside Clark's desk, putting his arms out to avoid colliding with his friend. His eyes were practically bugging out of their sockets and he was totally out of breath. What had happened?

"C.K!" Jimmy wheezed, desperate to get the words out between deep breaths. "Trouble...party...angry...you gotta help me man!"

Clark's brow furrowed as he struggled to decipher Jimmy's garbled message. "Jimmy, slow down. What do you mean 'trouble'?"

The answer soon presented itself, catching the attention of the various Daily Planet staff milling about the bullpen, the hallway and the stairs outside as they observed the commotion. Clark stepped away from Jimmy and over to the end of Lois' desk, his attention on the top of the staircase. Jimmy crouched down by the desk next to the window, only his eyes and the top of his head visible as he peered through the open blinds behind the window, his hands gripping the edge of the desk firmly, his knuckles turning white. He looked every inch as though he was frightened for his life.

Clark could now see where the source of the trouble was coming from. One of the Planet's veteran sports reporters - a middle-aged man in a grey suit, with a receding hairline, a ruddy-cheeked complexion and a paunch that was the result of many visits to the concessions stand at the numerous baseball games he covered - came tumbling down the staircase, rolling into the wall on the landing halfway between the two floors with a thud, clearly the worse for wear. A brown leather briefcase came hurtling towards him a second later, hitting him square in the midriff, cracking open to splay its contents over both him and the staircase. Clark heard him groan in pain before he'd managed to engage his brain and start heading over to find out what was going on. Jimmy winced from his temporary hiding place.

Fixing his gaze on the staircase, Clark had taken just one fitful step before he saw her.

"Oh boy!" Clark whispered, fully aware of the mayhem about to ensue. Jimmy had really landed himself in it this time.

Five foot eight, plus maybe a couple of extra inches thanks to heels, blank pants, aquamarine low-cut blouse, ponytailed almost-brunette hair, svelte figure, and an expression on her face that spoke of pure, fiery-pits-of-hell rage. Clark squinted, almost certain that he could see steam coming out of her ears. She looked like something out of a cartoon. Lois was storming down into the bullpen. Target: Jimmy Olsen.

Unfortunately for Jimmy's fellow photography buddy, whose name escaped even him right now, he was next in the firing line. He had only popped down into the bullpen to speak to one of the reporters about an assignment, requiring him to get a lot better focus in his action shots. Pep talk over, he assumed he'd be on his way to wherever he was required, camera at hand, locked and loaded. He assumed wrong. Rounding the corner and up the staircase at a brisk jog, he was suddenly chest to face with her female form. There was no time to react, never mind gauge who was in front of him, before he had his bell well and truly rung by the sort of lefty haymaker any southpaw champion boxer could dine out on. Stopping him from toppling back whence he came, she hooked her arm beneath his and used her hip as leverage to execute a perfect hip toss, sending the poor sap arcing over the railing and landing flat on his back on the receptionist's solid wooden desk just outside the bullpen. Jimmy's buddy was down for the count. He had wisely chosen to remain unconscious and stay there.

The sweat was building on Jimmy's brow and it was impossible for his eyes to get any wider. He used the brief lull to crouch his way over to the far end of the bullpen, ducking beneath one desk and popping out on the other side of another. His mind was screaming at him to just get away from here - hell, get a one-way ticket to Mexico if need be - but his eyes and his body simply wanted to stay put and observe the carnage. Clark's tall well-built frame still blocked most of the view of the open doorway but Jimmy knew it wasn't over. Clark was standing motionless as one of the interns made her way past him and out of the bullpen. As with Jimmy's friend, she was completely unaware of the commotion outside. A slim petite blonde with long hair, the big box of files in her hands was her main concern as her chin rested on top to help her hold it up.

She was moving for the elevator when Lois forcefully swiped the box out of her hands, sending a stack of folders tumbling onto the floor, the paperwork creating a patchwork mosaic on the patterned floor. The woman looked up in shock, seeing an intensely furious face staring back at her, sending chills up and down her spine. Before she knew it, the hem of her below-the-knee skirt had been pulled up over her face revealing a pair of beige granny pants, her arms flailing about helplessly as she struggled to see anything or free herself. Not that it would matter because she found herself being spun around by the arm by Lois and Irish whipped into the screen door just to the side. She slammed into it with considerable force, the impact rattling the window, her teeth and her brain. She collapsed in an undignified heap of skirt-over-face with her unflattering panties on display.

Jimmy ducked below the top of the far desk once more. This was apoplexy on a level even he could never have envisaged. What had made him think it would be a good idea? How was he going to escape? _Was_ he going to escape? He needed a Kyle Reese to swoop in and save the day. Yes, he'd just compared himself to Sarah Connor trapped inside Tech Noir.

The hapless intern's friend had seen what had just happened and stepped in to intervene.

"Hey!" she cried, laying a hand on Lois' arm.

As plans go, that was not a good one. Lois took one glance at the hand on her arm, then up at the face of her next victim. Jimmy could have sworn that what followed was the roar of Godzilla. The decibel level forced him to cover his ears as the bullpen began to shake like it was the epicentre of a massive earthquake, with the water-filled paper cups on the desk Jimmy was cowering under being toppled over by the travelling sound waves, spilling their contents over his terrified visage. From somewhere in the bullpen a vase had been knocked over, smashing into a billion itty bitty pieces. The lights above the desks blew out one by one, and the surge in electricity in the main tube light saw it explode at one end, swinging down and hanging like an out-of-sync pendulum. The sparks from the exposed live wire continued to pop every few seconds. _Oh great!_ Now he had to evade capture while negotiating his way in the dimmest of dim light.

Clark's frame was still acting as a convenient shield from the ire of Lois, but Jimmy saw the intern's friend being launched into the air by the deafening roar, her hair blown in all directions by the blast of hot air as she somersaulted backwards over her desk before plunging ass-first into the large ornate pot behind containing a selection of cacti. Not nice. Jimmy winced once more. That _had_ to hurt!

It was now that Jimmy saw Clark make a move towards the rampaging monster. Was he crazy? _Get outta there man!_ Conveniently for Clark, the roar had abruptly ended the telephone conversation of another colleague in the bullpen, and this poor soul turned around ready to ask just what the hell was going on. He asked the wrong person. For his troubles, he found a full wastepaper basket slammed onto his head, the scents of a half-eaten club sandwich, some used tissue paper and a scattering of pencil shavings invaded his nostrils before he had any clue it had even happened. A perfectly executed roundhouse kick had him face-planting onto his desk, clearing it of computers, files, coffee cups and anything else that wasn't nailed down.

Jimmy rose up from behind his hiding place in horror, watching Lois reach into the back of the man's pants and pull up his underwear with the mother of all wedgies before pulling him to the ground with his head facing the open doorway. A small crowd of stupidly curious Daily Planet staff had gathered outside to find out what all this racket was. Jimmy saw her grin - grin! - as she placed her other hand on the nape of her vanquished foe, gripping the back of his jacket. With an almighty heave, the unlucky gentleman was sent skidding along the floor wastepaper basket-first into the curious crowd. If Jimmy had time to count, he figured there were ten of them. Strike! Hell, he wasn't about to question her technique or point out that her feet were over the line.

Lois stomped over to Clark, getting right up in his grill with her arms down by her sides, fists clenched.

"Where is he?" She growled. There was only one acceptable answer.

 _Don't tell her man, don't tell her!_

"Lois, what's going on? Who are you looking for?" asked Clark. If he was trying to feign innocence, she certainly didn't appear to have any time for it.

"Don't play dumb with me. Step aside, Smallville." It was an order not a request.

 _Don't move man, don't move!_

"Seriously, I don't know what you mean," Clark carried on, still playing up the confused angle. Was he chuckling? Jimmy couldn't see if Clark's poker face was having any effect because Clark had his back to him.

It was then that Jimmy made the mistake of scooting over just a tad to get a better view of the dynamic duo's exchange. Like an eagle scouting its prey from two miles away, or a grizzled sharpshooter engaging his thousand yard stare to spot the enemy, or maybe a Terminator locking onto its target after scanning the entire room, Lois' eyes fixed onto Jimmy's. She narrowed hers, he widened his. His one remaining hope was that Clark would be able to calm her down sufficiently enough for her to have mercy. If that failed, he was out of options.

"Fine!" she retorted through gritted teeth.

Nothing was going to get in her way. Not today. She quickly placed her hands on Clark's shoulders before raising her knee to send a devastating blow right into Clark's groin. Everything became slow motion as Jimmy heard the sickening crunch. He felt all the air leaving Clark's lungs. He heard the strangled gasp. He watched Clark's legs buckle beneath him and his hands reach down over the impact zone. He watched Clark hit the floor with a hefty thud, immediately writhing in the foetal position. He saw Clark's glazed eyes looking over at him helplessly. Jimmy's mouth opened in shock at the thought of how Clark had been hit right where it hurts. By one of his best friends. In a place that God only intended to be treated with reverence. Jimmy's sense of panic escalated the more Clark lay there rocking back and forth, desperately trying to breathe. There was nothing Clark would be able to do to help now having been left totally incapacitated.

No doubt now, Jimmy was done for. Smoothing the creases in her blouse, Lois made her way over to a cowering Jimmy. He instinctively shuffled back along the floor with each step she took until he was stopped by the solid form of the filing cabinet right behind him.

He now had a moment to observe the carnage all around him. The dimness of a bullpen that was usually full of light. The precariously dangling tube light with sparks bursting from the exposed wiring behind Lois, lending her an unearthly glow. He could see the prone bodies littering the hallway like downed pins, the upturned wastepaper basket, paperwork strewn everywhere, the screaming reporter clawing frantically at the cactus lodged firmly in her ass cheek, a floored Clark Kent with a look on his face normally reserved for those who are soon to be read the Last Rites.

This was utter mayhem, and it was entirely his fault. Jimmy cowered further into the filing cabinet, desperately hoping it would somehow swallow him and shield him from what was to come as Lois' shadow loomed over him, closely followed by the incandescent Lois. Her teeth were snarling, her bloodshot eyes felt like they were piercing right through him with their gaze, and the room suddenly felt about 50 degrees warmer thanks to the heat pouring off of her. He was doomed.

"Jimmy!" He heard the guttural and menacing tone in her voice. She cracked the knuckles in her hands. The threat level was now at DEFCON 1.

As she leaned closer to him, he backed further and further down, raising one meek hand to offer limp protection against the upcoming onslaught.

"Please don't hurt me!" he begged, whimpering and closing his eyes.

"Jimmy!" The voice again.

"Jimmy!" And again, but this time it sounded like somebody else. Somebody altogether more concerned. Somebody who normally spoke to him in softer, more loving tones.

 _Chloe!_

Jimmy sprang awake with a start, his brow dripping with sweat as he gasped for breath. He blinked until his vision regained his focus. He was on the couch back at the Talon. In front of him crouching down, laying a soothing hand on his arm and with a worried expression on her face was his fiancée. She was wearing a coat, suggesting she'd just got home. Standing with hands on hips behind her was Lois, looking both puzzled and bemused. She certainly didn't look as though she wanted to rip his throat out, but her presence still caused him to flinch.

"Huh, wha-?" he began to speak, thick with cotton mouth.

"Jimmy, you were having a nightmare," Chloe explained delicately, still rubbing his arm.

"Hmm?" he asked, confused and trying to shake off his slumber.

"We just got back. You were asleep on the couch and you were saying, 'Please don't hurt me!'"

Jimmy sat up, rubbing his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths to bring his heart rate back down. It was just a nightmare - a particularly hellish and vivid one at that. And all because of something he'd done. So concentrated was he on making sense of the situation that he hadn't registered Lois going over to the sink to fetch a glass of water.

"Uh, yeah," he answered hoarsely, taking the proffered glass from Lois without looking at her. "Just a nightmare."

"Should I be worried?" Chloe asked, smiling sympathetically.

Jimmy shook his head, his mind clearing the fuzzy haze as each second passed. "No, it was just a bad dream. Must be the stress of the upcoming wedding season. All this planning has been causing me a few sleepless nights," he shrugged, glugging from the glass to settle his parched throat.

Lois snorted, shaking her head. "No way Jimbo, _you_ don't get to pull the pre-wedding insomnia excuse. That's _my_ line. You guys keep me awake until late every night with your wedding preparations and...other stuff."

Jimmy stared at Lois as Chloe fought to keep the blush away from her cheeks. She and Jimmy had indeed spent a few moments late at night 'canoodling' in bed, in the belief that Lois was out like a light on the couch. Evidently, they'd failed to keep the noise down.

Lois hung up her coat and bag before making her way to the bathroom, giving Chloe and Jimmy some time to talk.

"OK, now do you mind telling me what's got you so scared? We were keeping everything simple remember?" Chloe asked him as she sat beside him on the couch.

Jimmy turned his head to glance in the direction of the bathroom before turning his attention to Chloe. He was making sure the coast was clear, and he spoke in hushed tones as though taking part in a clandestine meeting.

"It was total chaos in the bullpen," he explained, looking around for signs of Lois once more.

Chloe got the hint. It was something to do with Lois. "Why would Lois want to hurt you?"

Jimmy sighed before going on to explain in detail. Half of him was convinced that Chloe would find his fears preposterous.

"You know how we hired the swing band for our engagement right? Well, I called them to include a few numbers to get all the couples out on the dance floor. Neither Clark nor Lois has a date for the night so my idea was for them to join together as a couple. The DJ was to call them out. Since they're gonna be Best Man and Maid-of-Honour, I wanted to get them involved."

Chloe grinned widely. "Yeah I can see where my cuz might have a problem with that!"

Warming to his theme and getting more insistent on his reasoning, Jimmy carried on. "I don't get it. Those two are already like a married couple. They work together all day yet they still hang out together outside of work. I've seen the looks they give each other when they think the other isn't looking. The chemistry is undeniable and it's like they refuse to accept what's right in front of them."

"Look, I agree there's a spark between them," Chloe replied, "but throwing them together isn't going to open their eyes. They are both too stubborn to just go along with it."

"I was just thinking of giving them a friendly nudge."

"Hey, I think we should just let things play out and see if Clark and Lois begin to see it for themselves," suggested Chloe. "Besides, Lois isn't _that_ bad. I don't think she would deliberately make a scene."

The cosy chat was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door being pulled open forcefully. Lois thundered out holding something in her hand. For a microsecond, Jimmy got a glimpse of the bloodshot eyes, snarling teeth and intense heat radiating off her like he had seen in his nightmare. In reality, Lois was standing there slightly miffed.

"Have you been using my toothbrush?"

Jimmy was not about to answer. Why give her more ammo with his engagement party so close?

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 **FIN.**


End file.
